Things I Do Not Understand

There are somethings that my kids do that I totally understand, like avoiding bedtime.  They don’t want to miss anything, which I  understand since I frequently stay up late doing all kids of crazy fun stuff like writing papers on illegal immigration, stripping paint, washing dishes, folding laundry, and , if I am feeling all kinds of crazy, scrubbing the kitchen floor, a type of fun that I can only handle every so often.  Who could sleep with all that fun and excitement occurring under the same roof?  (In all honesty I do have to confess that as soon as we tuck them in Andy runs for the ice cream.)

They avoid school like it may in fact give them the plague.  That I also understand, as evidenced by the fact that David is taking a rare morning nap so I am blogging.  Instead of doing school, mine or theirs.

And I even understand the avoidance of certain activities that I enjoy, such as napping, taking a bath, and reading.  These things all take away from the job they should be doing, playing.  I get that, because most of those things I do for play, especially reading.  And yet, there are some activities others do for play that I do not enjoy, such as bungee jumping, sky diving, cooking, and golf.
What I do not understand is the effort some of my children will go to to avoid the things they are required to do.  For example, putting dirty laundry in the hamper.  To me, it takes much more effort to hide dirty underpants in creative locations than to toss them in a laundry basket that is conveniently located directly beside you.  Or to running to a different floor of the house to toss a toy into the closet instead of walking to the next room and putting it in the bin.  Or putting the trash in your hand directly outside of the trash can when it is the same amount of effort to put it in.  Or using a napkin that is right by your elbow to clean up the four drops of milk on the table instead of running to the bathroom and getting four bath towels that are still warm from the dryer and tossing them somewhere close to the spill.

The same children who spent ten minutes jumping on bubble wrap are too tired to run to the bathroom to get a baby wipe refill when I am up to my elbows in a dirty diaper.  They jump on the couch while watching a movie but can not get up to push play on the DVD player.  I have a child who will get out bread, peanut butter, a plate, and a knife and come find me instead of making her own sandwich.  I have a child who will bring a gallon of milk and a cup all over the house looking for me instead of pouring it himself.  This is the same child who will climb to the top of the fridge to get a piece of gum, but will not open the fridge to get his own yogurt.

I was never the child who would rather do something half way.  I was always a perfectionist.  It was all or nothing.  Now, most cleaning activities were nothing, but if I had to do them I certainly did not hide my toys in a different room.  I hide them in the same room, like under my bed.  I would never exert more effort to avoid an activity than it took to complete it.  I had a brother who would have walked to the ends of the earth for a new video game, but would not walk to the trash can to put anything in.  (Oh, you, and your wife, know who you are…)  He would do anything to get out of something he was supposed to do, no matter how much effort it took to avoid it.  That always drove me crazy.  Apparently I was standing too close to him when my mother cursed him to have children just like him, cause it effected me as well.  And it still drives me crazy.